


The (After) Life of the Party

by FlourishBelle



Category: Arthur (Inception) - Fandom, Arthur/Eames (Inception) - Fandom, Eames (Inception) - Fandom, Inception (2010), Romance - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlourishBelle/pseuds/FlourishBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As Arthur watches Eames work the room, laughing and smiling, charming and flirtatious, he wonders – could it last? " <br/>I suck at summaries, so have a quote instead! :D Inspired by the song from Fall Out Boy of the same name. All characters belong to the fabulous Christopher Nolan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The (After) Life of the Party

Arthur sat by the bar, a quarter-filled glass of bourbon in his hand. He swirled the amber liquid absently, his other hand on his knee, turned to face the room. The expensive bar was filled with men and women in their finest attire, tuxes and swanky evening dresses that made the darkened room shine demurely. They each laughed and drank their money in wine, practiced conversation tumbling over whitened smiles. He hated all of them. Resented their power, their social fraudulences, their ostentatious cars, houses, and affairs. 

Yet as much as all of these things were true, he knew that this particular heat was not brought on by social contempt. Nor by the liquor. These people were laughing like magazine models, entertained fully by the charming, handsome Brit at the center of their circle. 

Eames worked the room like a pro. Though Arthur knew it was for a job, that this part was essential for the rest of the plan, he hated every second of it. Watching Eames’ easy smile, delivering stories with the same grace with which he poured the booze. He responded to the frequent, not quite subtle, up-downs with a flirtatious wink or a smooth compliment. His graces were evenly placed throughout the crowd and it was clear that he was in perfect command of each of his new followers. 

Arthur could feel the blood pulsing through him, hot and agitated. He finished his bourbon, setting the glass on the bar with a little too much force, remembering what happened the other night.  


Eames had shown up at his door, the top buttons of his fine suit undone and his tie pulled slack. A bottle of wine dangled from his right hand as he leaned against the doorframe, looking straight out of a movie. His full lips were quirked in a smirk, his eyes shrouded in barely-concealed desire.  
“Hello darling.” He almost whispers, his deep voice doing sinful things to Arthur’s resolve.  


Back in the bar, Eames is leaned up against a column in much the same way. He’s talking to some guy in a Tom Ford who thinks he’s pretty important. The way he stands in front of the forger speaks of predatory dominance and somewhere deep in Arthur’s throat, he stifles a growl.  


In his memory, Arthur didn’t know what to say and he always knows what to say. But for some reason, Eames in his doorway left him without a word.  


“Can I come in?” The tension is evident, the elephant in the room. It has been building since the job started. Hell, since they met. The heated glances, snarky comments, and teasing had all lead them here, to this moment. Something had finally shifted; the fever would break tonight. Eames breezes past, setting the bottle on the table. Arthur’s behind him a moment later, hands pressing bruises into his hips. He turns the forger quickly, bringing a hand behind his neck and pulling their lips together.  
Finally.  


Eames has, thankfully, dodged his predatory friend now, meaning that Arthur doesn’t have to kill the asshole, whoever he was. Good. He’s back to his fans, telling some story that has the group invested. So much exists between them now, a promise of what could be. It’s a fragile thing and he would do anything to protect it. As Arthur watches Eames work the room, laughing and smiling, charming and flirtatious, he wonders – could it last? At this moment, they lock eyes, heat passing between them. A knowing, secret smile passes Eames’ lips and a new fire replaces that of the disdain that Arthur clung so tightly to moments ago. A second later, the moment’s passed and he’s back to his act.  


He remembers the way Eames wrapped his arms around him, pulling them closer together, as if he could somehow weld them into one being. He remembers the slick of skin on skin, breathing each other’s air, wondering if he could get high off contact, drunk off a kiss. He remembers being surprised at how gentle Eames was with him, treating him like an idol worthy of worship even through the rushed heat of it all. Though it seemed a whirlwind, Arthur replays the evening moment by moment. Every moan, every kiss, every love bite.  


Absently, the point man raises his hand to rub a spot just beneath his collarbone. Gazing across the room, he thinks about just how badly he wants to rediscover all of the marks he left all over Eames and lay down some new ones. Catching Eames’ eye and sending him a suggestive smile, Arthur finally abandons his drink at the bar and decides to retrieve the forger from the middle of the crowd of adoring fans.  


He remembers those moments of breathless satisfaction that followed the other night. Lying there, sharing soft kisses, touches, and words, reveling in the feeling of unspoken something that lingered in the air. Walking up and taking Eames’ hand in the crowd, Arthur smiles, eager for a repeat performance.


End file.
